


This Our Solemn Oath

by Flightstone



Category: Tales of Graces
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Gen, M/M, Slow Build
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-02
Updated: 2017-07-24
Packaged: 2018-06-05 20:43:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,956
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6722665
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Flightstone/pseuds/Flightstone
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>One who dreamt of a peaceful kingdom turns to vows of revenge.<br/>One who pledged to become a knight marches forward with none left to protect.</p><p>Set in a canon divergent universe where he graduates a knight, Asbel Lhant discovers that the situation in Windor is far more complicated than he ever imagined.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Homecoming

_Once upon a time there was a young prince, stranded in the middle of a crystal lake._

_Although the lake was breathtaking in its beauty, and although many would wander by to admire it, none ever dared wade into its depths or break its mirrored surface. And so, although the prince was surrounded by the perfect reflections of his people, he was always left alone._

_Then one day, a bird flew by. Unlike the others, the bird wasn't afraid to get his feet wet, nor did he care overly much about the serenity of the lake. Instead, the bird flapped his way across the pool, and when he could find no place to land, splashed down into the cool waters and paddled over to where the prince dwelled._

_'What're you doing all by yourself?' the bird asked, 'Come on, let's go have some fun.'_

_'You don't understand. I'm trapped here,' the prince said. 'There isn't any way for me to leave the lake.'_

_'Sure there is!' insisted the bird, stretching out his feathers. 'You just follow me. Uh, but you might have to give me a boost first.'_

_Uncertain though he was, the prince scooped the bird up into the palm of his hand and held him aloft. With a flap of his wings, the bird flew into the air, waiting for the prince to join him. Sure enough, when the prince took a careful step out onto the lake, he found that he could walk across its surface. The prince was at last free, and he followed the bird all the way to the shoreline._

_And from that day forward, the bird and the prince became good friends._

   
_But that isn't the end of the story._

 

* * *

 

“Father!” Richard threw wide the door, aware too late that his outburst was inappropriate of Windor’s crowned prince. Richard’s heart still drummed in his chest thanks to the brisk pace he had set through Barona’s bustling streets, his throat parched with fear.

“Ah… Richard? You’ve returned already?” a hazy voice asked from across the king’s chamber, muffled beneath the canopies of an immense oaken bed.

Richard allowed himself, at last, to breathe. After signalling the two guards to withdraw, he pulled the heavy latch closed and made his way across thick carpets to kneel at the bedside.

“I apologize, Father.” Richard said, head bowed. “For not being present when the messenger arrived. Lord Aston told me there was an urgent message, that you had fallen ill and that I was to come back straightaway. However, I...”

“That’s quite all right, Richard. Please, come closer. There’s no need for you to be so stiff around your old father.”

Hesitating, though he knew the man meant every word, Richard finally drew himself up. His fingers dug into cool, silken sheets, his legs trailing over as he perched on the edge of the mattress, too short yet to touch the floor.

It had been mere days, less than a week, but already it seemed to him that his father had aged a year. A light sheen of sweat dotted his forehead, the furrows under his eyes long and deep. Richard had been right to worry.

King Ferdinand IV had been a strong man once. Confident and even-tempered, his audiences were often punctuated with light-hearted humor and the kind advice of someone who truly cared for his subjects and their families. He was a man who believed in his country, and a man who also believed that the faith of their king could bring out a person’s innermost strengths. He was, in a word, an idealist. And he had been the first person, also, to believe in Richard’s ideals.

But despite this, Richard knew that his father was far from a fool. That clear, sharp gaze missed very little, and Richard himself had witnessed the deftness with which he could maneuver a blade. Perhaps that was why his father’s failing constitution was so sad - and so frustrating. There was no reason for him to be shut up inside his suite as illness preyed upon that strength. There was no reason for any of this. If only he could do something to stop it from happening time and again, then maybe...

A warm hand over his interrupted Richard’s thoughts, and he lifted his eyes to find a matching pair watching him patiently. Not watching, he reminded, but _reading_.

“Did you enjoy your stay in Lhant, Richard? It must be quite lively during the summer months.”

Richard swallowed, moving his free hand to cover his father’s in turn. “I did in fact. Very much so. Lord Aston was quite hospitable. And also, I was able to make some new friends. There are friendly, good people in Lhant.”

“I am glad to hear as much.” A tired smile stretched the king’s face. Had he not been ill, Richard was certain the man would have sat straight up in bed as if he had just divulged the most miraculous of surprises. “Now you must tell me about these friends of yours, Richard. Are they young people your age, I wonder, or perhaps someone older you can look up to?”

Grinning, Richard shook his head. “Their names are Asbel and Sophie. Asbel is Lord Aston’s son.”

“Lord Aston’s son, you say? I’d been told he had two sons now, though I’ve never had the pleasure of meeting them.”

“Yes, you would be right,” Richard continued, letting loose the stopper on the bottled excitement he’d been quashing until now, “Hubert is shy and takes after the Lady Lhant. And as for Asbel...”

“A heathen, I hear.”

“ _What_? No!” Richard flushed as he caught the gleam of a truer smile on his father’s face. “What I meant to say was… Although it’s true that Asbel is reckless and a little too brash, he still--”

A hoarse laugh interrupted him. At first, the sound alleviated some of Richard’s flustered nerves, even conjuring a sheepish smile on his own face. However, a second more and the merry chuckle had turned into a fit of coughs.

“Father.” Richard leaned forward, squeezing his hand tight to stop his whole body from trembling. “Are you all right? Shall I summon the royal physician?”

“No, no. It’s fine…” Ferdinand whispered between coughs. “Don’t worry yourself so.”

“It isn’t _fine_.” Richard muttered darkly.

“There now, Richard. I’m sure that this ‘Asbel’ is a fine boy. I would like very much to meet him.”

Richard bit his lip, trying to read his father’s face the same way he read his kingdom. Of course he would turn the topic back to happier things, like Richard’s journey to Lhant… Kings were supposed to be foundations for their kingdoms, and Ferdinand never had allowed others to fuss over him for long. Still, it seemed a bit unfair. Title or not title, his father was still a man. But, at least for now, the coughing had eased.

“I would like that as well. Perhaps we can go together at a later time.” Richard offered, playing along even as his chest tightened. “Once you are feeling better.”

“Yes, perhaps we shall. I owe Aston a visit as well.. It has been a long time, and he always did take things much too seriously when left to himself. Much, much too seriously…” Ferdinand patted Richard’s hand. “ I am sorry for this, Richard. I wish you could have stayed in Lhant where you would have been much safer.”

“It’s all right, Father. I understand why you summoned me back here.”

“No, my son. You misunderstand,” said Ferdinand, his voice suddenly firm, “I wanted for you to spend the entire season in Lhant under Lord Aston’s care.”

“What do you mean?” Richard asked, uncomprehending. Shifting to close his fingers around his son’s wrist, Ferdinand drew him to himself, his breath warm at Richard’s ear, his scent a concoction of bitter herbs tinged with a lingering sweetness Richard had learned to dread.

“I am sorry, Richard.” Ferdinand whispered. “I never ordered the knights to bring you home.”

 _What?_ Richard felt his blood run cold, a ship lost at sea as he was released from his father’s comforting embrace and left hovering like a leaf on the wind.

Only then did Richard hear the slow creak of the door, the metallic shuffle of armor, the calm familiar voice of the one person he resented most in the entire world.

“Your Majesty, I believe the doctors have advised that you not overexert yourself.”

“Yes… I suppose they did, Cedric.” Ferdinand turned back to Richard with an expression of apology and silent understanding. “Thank you for coming to visit your father, Richard. Perhaps we can talk more about your time in Lhant tomorrow?”

“Y...yes. Of course.” Richard answered, all warmth having drained from him completely. It was all Richard could do to keep his footsteps steady as he turned and tread out of the room, the muscles in his legs quivering with rage held in check.

“How is your father?”

Richard stopped in his tracks, biting down the million curses he wished he could fling at this man like knives. Lately… again and again, despite changes to the staff and every conceivable precaution, his father continued to become sick. That was the official story. However, the truth was something far worse, and something his father refused to believe for reasons Richard could hardly imagine. Ferdinand wasn’t sick, but poisoned, and the most likely suspect, the person who stood to gain the most...was his own brother, Archduke Cedric.

Richard turned to the man standing outside the doorway, summoning a tone that at least bordered on acceptable. “He’s tired, Uncle. But with some rest, I’m sure he’ll be feeling much better.”

“Yes, let us hope so. By the way, Your Highness, I heard that you had quite a scare while you were in Lhant. It’s a shame what Sir Bryce tried to do to you. I will see to it that the council enacts a just punishment on that man.”

Richard nodded, fists tight at his sides. “I understand. Thank you, Uncle.”

“You must be exhausted. I shall leave you be. A good day to you, my prince.”

Richard watched him go, eyes trailing him until he had disappeared around a turn in the corridor. Then, and only then, did Richard start down a different corridor..

One of the servants met him at the top of the staircase, bowing low before he launched into a flurry of apologies for being ill-prepared and a swift recital of the tutors who would be arriving tomorrow for lessons. Richard hardly heard a word of it. Excusing himself, he retreated to his chambers and sank slowly down into the divan near the window, overlooking the castle gardens and above that, a wide expanse of blue. He had only just returned, and already the hope Asbel and the others had given him was a sputtering candle. How would he ever manage to make true friends in a place where he must forever be careful, watchful, afraid? With this, it seemed his vacation was over.

_An entire season in Lhant…_

It sounded unbelievable. And yet, Richard yearned for it. A whole season with his new friends, getting tugged along on Asbel’s misadventures, helping Sophie recover her memories, and learning more about Cheria and Hubert. It sounded like a nice dream. But that’s all it was now.

A beautiful and impossible dream.


	2. The Embrace of Knighthood

“Asbel, wait!”

Shaking fingers dug into his sleeve. Behind him Hubert’s face was scrunched up in fright, as if some kind of ghost was going to pop out of the darkness and gobble them up. For a full minute Asbel almost felt guilty for making him tag along.

“Come on, Asbel. It’s almost morning. If your Dad finds out we’ve been gone this whole time…” Cheria sighed, her usual sharp tone absent as she rubbed a hand over sleepy eyes. Sophie stood beside her, turning one way and then another like a windmill in slow motion. Asbel couldn’t even begin to tell what she found so interesting here in the Royal Sanctuary. Sure, the fountain was nice and all, but the rest of the place was pretty dull by his standards. The real fun wouldn’t begin until Richard snuck them all into the castle -- which as it turned out was exactly the problem. They’d been waiting for _hours_ , and Richard still hadn’t shown up yet.

“Asbel…” Hubert whined again.

“It’ll be fine!” Asbel assured them in the confident leader’s tone he adopted whenever he caught a whiff of mutiny on the horizon. Slipping out of his little brother’s grasp, Asbel crossed his arms and peered at each of his friends. “Besides, Richard _promised_ he’d meet us here. Something must’ve happened to hold him up.”

Unfortunately, the tried-and-true leader’s tone didn’t seem to be working this time. Cheria and Hubert glanced at one another, then looked back with matching frowns on their faces. Hubert continued to shuffle from one foot to the other.

“Come _on_ ,” Asbel tried again. “You can’t seriously be thinking that Richard would stand us up?”

“Well, no, but… Maybe he fell asleep. He must be tired from the boat ride over,” suggested Hubert.

“Or from _you_ keeping him up all night,” Cheria added. “Besides, he’s a prince, Asbel! He’s probably got more important things to do than take us on a tour. You can’t really blame him, you know?”

“More important things?” Asbel muttered under his breath. “Really? Well, I don’t buy it. You saw how happy he was with us!”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean…” began Cheria.

“Then what _did_ you mean?” Asbel challenged. He felt twitchy, like he needed to be _doing_ something. And the last thing he wanted was to be talked out of an adventure or scolded for being disobedient. Richard would show up. He _had_ to.

Cheria bit her lip. It took her five seconds to catch her breath, but then she continued, slowly. “Asbel, we’re all tired. It’s very late now. I don’t think it’s because he doesn’t want to... but I don’t think Richard is coming to meet us tonight.”

 _No, that couldn’t be it._ Richard wouldn’t _lie_. They’d all been so excited about this plan, too! They’d come all the way to Barona and Dad’d probably have him grounded for a whole year once they got home.

Besides, there was no way Richard would stand them up. Asbel might have thought that a few days ago, but they’d spent the whole afternoon chasing around the capital, joking around and having fun. Richard had turned out to be pretty cool. He wasn’t about to go back home without at least a ‘see you later!’.

“I’ve decided. If Richard can’t make it here, then I’m going to him! If you’re all too tired then...then, just go on back to the inn without me.”

Asbel dropped into a crouch and scuffled forward. Loose pebbles stuck to his palms as he scooted through the small passage leading into the underground. The air itself seemed to be breathing, and the first thing he noticed was how much colder and wetter it was inside the tunnel.

“Ah--Asbel!!” two voices cried after him.

“You don’t have to come, just don’t tell Dad right away!” he called back to them, brushing off his hands and making his way further inside.

Masonry soon gave way to natural rock formations, dimly lit by an eerie glow and the occasional eleth lamp crammed into the walls. Sometimes he could make out the soft echo of water dripping onto stone, or the scurrying sounds of monsters. Shuffles behind him let him know his friends had decided to tag along instead of tattling on him.

Sophie was the first to catch up, probably because her legs were the longest.

“Asbel… It isn’t safe here,” she said. “We should go back.”

“You kidding? Where’s your sense of adventure, Sophie?”

Sophie shook her head and placed a hand over her chest. “I’m getting a bad feeling about this place. It...hurts to be here.”

“No way! Don’t tell me you’re actually scared, Sophie. _You?_ ” Asbel slowed just a little so they could walk side-by-side. Sophie was a good head taller than him and he’d yet to see her freak out about anything. Sure, she was kind of weird, but he’d seen how tough she was and how high she could jump, too. That she’d have a bad feeling about a silly old cave was almost unthinkable. After all, she’d outrun him and she’d sworn to protect him (as much as he still hated to admit it) and she’d even helped take down Bryce.

“No, I’ve never experienced fear before. What does being ‘scared’ feel like?” she questioned.

“When something makes you feel bad and you want to get far away from it, that usually means you’re scared.” Asbel explained.

“I don’t know,” Sophie said after a moment. “Do you think I’m scared, Asbel?”

“Uhh, maybe? It’s usually way easier to tell. Take Hubert for example. He used to be _terrified_ of thunderstorms. And whenever he got scared and started crying, he’d crawl--”

“H-hey!” Hubert protested behind them.

“Asbel, please, cut it out!” Cheria gave the back of his head a light smack which he immediately shrugged off.

“Fine, fine… Anyway, Sophie. You’ve got nothing to worry about, since we’re all here together. And together, we can do anything. Right?”

Sophie watched him for a long moment, long enough to be uncomfortable even, then lifted her head sharply. Asbel followed her gaze, squinting hard. He thought he could just make out an opening ahead.

“Hey, look, I think I see something!” he announced. Without another thought, Asbel charged forward. The light shifted, bounced, and squeezed the caverns down into a single tunnel and at its end -- a wide-open room.

And there, laid out on the ground, was Richard.

Asbel went cold all over.

His legs refused to move, as heavy and useless as tree trunks.

“Richard?” his voice squeaked, lacking the bravery he’d felt just seconds before. But it was enough somehow. He managed one trudging step, then another, and then he was running faster than he’d ever run in his life.

“Hey, Richard!” Asbel skidded on loose rock as he dropped down beside him. Richard was still as a statue, his eyes closed as if in sleep.

Asbel tried again, gripping him hard by the shoulders, urgently now. “What’s wrong? Hey, wake up!”

There was a hissing thud and Asbel’s fingers snapped shut. The familiar form in front of him crumbled to the cave floor. Asbel stared wide-eyed at where Richard had been, at a pile of white sand that shuddered and blew away in an unnatural gust of wind.

“R-richard? This...this is all a joke, right? Come on, Richard, it isn’t funny anymore!”

Asbel shivered, gripping his elbows as he pulled himself to his feet. This couldn’t be happening, could it? Things weren’t supposed to turn out like this.

“Hey…” he began, whipping around to face his other friends. The words stopped in his throat when he saw that he was alone, and that shadows were creeping in around him until they’d trapped him in a tiny cage of light. The damp breeze picked up again, carrying with it muddled voices and what he thought was a scream.

As much as he tried to tell himself he wasn’t afraid, Asbel couldn’t stop shaking.

A knight didn’t panic, a knight wasn’t scared of anything, but in that moment Asbel was struck by an overpowering terror. He ran, feet pounding against stone, yelling for his friends.

“Sophie! Cheria! Hubert!!” He shouted again. His shoulder smacked against a wall and he nearly tripped over his own shoes before veering off in another direction. “Richard! Can you guys hear me?!”

The tunnel hadn’t been this long. They’d barely been down here ten minutes. Where could they have gone?

“Asbel!” Came a cry, distant and soft. Even so, Asbel knew exactly who it belonged to: _Sophie._

Stumbling around a corner, Asbel puffed down another tunnel.

He found Sophie kneeling in the middle of a large chamber, raising a child to sit with slow, gentle movements. It was then Asbel noticed...the child was himself.

And behind them, out of the dark, a monstrous creature had begun to take form. Its long claws scratched deep marks into the stone and behind its mask-like skull, two slitted eyes burned a bright, unforgiving red. Asbel realized with a start that he had seen it hundreds of times before, just like this. Exactly like this.

“Stop! I won’t let you!” demanded Asbel. He shifted forward, ready to spring, hand steady on the grip of his training sword even though his nerves were anything but.

The creature ignored him, focused instead on the pair before it.

“Thank goodness you’re awake,” Sophie was saying. Her lips curved into a relieved smile, oblivious to the danger that had not yet been vanquished.

The Asbel seated beside her tried to prop himself up with his hands. Dirt smudged his clothes and face, and despite the dark red stain that steadily seeped through his shirt, he mustered a grin.

Time seemed to slow around them, but it didn’t stop.  
It never did.

“Look out!” Asbel shouted a moment too late.

Sophie gasped as the creature struck. The impact wrenched her off the floor, twintails whipping like purple wings. She landed with a whimper, curling up on herself, and moved a hand to cover her stomach where glittering fragments of light had begun to escape.

“Sophie!” Asbel shouted again, swinging his sword down upon the creature who even now was inching its way towards the wounded girl to finish what it had begun.

The steel blade passed through its body as if cutting the air again and again and again. Asbel cursed, dug a foot in and wildly propelled himself into the air. He aimed a kick and then followed up with a thrust of his sheath.

Nothing connected. It was like battling a phantom. The harder he fought, the sloppier his own movements seemed to become. His pulse pounded in his throat, his limbs grew heavy and tired, but the creature seemed to pass effortlessly between each attack like water.

Asbel wheeled around, teeth grit in desperation as he tried to think of something - anything at all - to stop it from happening again. Sophie had dragged herself to her feet, her expression wild.

A glint of something bright and warm caught his eye. Asbel lifted his fist which was now shimmering with a brilliance that was almost unreal. Dancing across his fingertips was the same power that had sprung forth when he felled the wolf in Orlen Woods only days ago.

Maybe…once again.

“Come on, work…please!” Asbel pleaded.

Light streaked down his blade as it crashed against the creature’s shoulder. The edge bit deep into the swirling mass of darkness until it flowed out into the room, obscuring the bodies of his friends, the stone walls, and the desperate cries of a child who could only watch as the girl who’d rescued him rocketed towards the monster that threatened them both.

The words ripped from his throat. “No, don’t do it--! Sophie!!”

“Hyaaaahh!” Fists gathered close, gauntlets blazing, Sophie swept into the air and burst into light.

 Then the darkness swelled again,  
                                          and Sophie’s voice faded away

until Asbel could no longer hear anything above  
                                                       the sound of water rushing in his ears.

 

Asbel gasped for breath, eyes snapping open. Shadows slunk back into corners, sliced through by sunbeams heralding the morning. He found that his body was cold and stiff, testament to the restless hours he’d spent lodged in a sleeping bag on the solid stone floor of the Knight Academy’s private chapel.

His heart still raced, but whether back to that time or away from it, he didn’t know. It was far from the first time he’d dreamt of that awful night. Sure, they’d become less frequent over the years, but on today of all days, he supposed it was no surprise that the nightmares had returned in force, as unstoppable as always.

Groaning, Asbel rubbed the sleep from his eyes and pressed the sides of his hands against his damp forehead. It seemed impossible that the ordeal in Orlen Woods had happened just a few days ago. The light was gone now, of course (no shimmering, no warmth, nothing else out of the ordinary) but that at least wasn’t just a childhood memory or a bad dream. What it was, though, and how it had appeared, he still hadn’t a clue. Thinking about it hurt.

“Rise and shine, Asbel.”

“Oh,” Asbel sat up quickly, the room whirling for a moment to reveal Asbel’s knight instructor ambling through the archway. “Good morning, Captain Malik!”

“Ready for today?” Malik stopped in front of him, a smile framed by the sandy-colored hair that lined his jaw. The Captain wasn’t exactly an archetypical vision of a knight-in-shining-armor for he was far more rugged than polished, but that didn’t shake the fierce respect Asbel had for him. Sure, the Captain could be tough, and he was arguably one of the best fighters Windor had to offer, but he had a light-hearted side too, and looked about as confident behind the bar at Tactics polishing shot glasses as he did during the cadets’ routine training exercises.

Asbel wished he could be half as confident right now. Instead, he didn’t feel too different from the little kid who’d stood out on the academy steps and vowed to remain until he graduated a knight - the very same kid who’d woken up in tears his first night here.

“Asbel?” Malik asked again.

“Huh?” Asbel blinked, realizing he’d failed to answer the question. “Oh. Yes, sir!”

Malik’s broad arms were folded across his chest, an eyebrow arched as he tried to puzzle him out -- a feat he was unnervingly good at, Asbel knew -- but he nodded anyway. “Well, you’d better get started, then. The bath should be ready and waiting for you. I’m sure you’ll find it refreshing after the long night you’ve had.”

Asbel dislodged himself from the sleeping bag, wobbling on numb feet as he forced his limbs into a salute. “Thank you, Captain.”

“Don’t thank me just yet, Asbel. Now, get yourself dressed and meet me in the east corridor once you’re done. We still have some work to do yet.”

“Understood, sir.”

Making sure his heels were clicked together, Asbel bowed again before walking over to the stoup and ladling some of the fountain’s clear, cool liquid into a glass container to take with him.

Malik’s stern voice called after him, “Oh, and one more thing.”

“Yes, Captain? Did I do something wrong?” The ladle fell with an ungracious clatter and Asbel had to fight back a wince as he turned back around.

“Not quite.” Malik said. “It’s a piece of advice. You’re nearly a man now, so you can make what you want of it, but. I want you to try and remember to breathe today.”

As if on cue, Asbel covered a massive yawn.

“Right. Just like that.” Malik agreed. “Good luck today, Asbel.”

“R-right... I’ll do my best not to let you down, Captain.”

 

* * *

 

It was an old tradition, dating back to the Academy’s earliest days. Before the knighting ceremony, cadets would spend a night in the chapel, meditating on everything they’d learned and what they hoped to accomplish in years to come. The following morning, they’d bathe in a pool infused with Water of Absolution - sourced from the same underground spring as the Royal Sanctuary - and wash away all their worldly regrets. Asbel wasn’t so sure about that (after all, those regrets were what had kept him going all this time) but it seemed nice enough in theory. And besides, after last night, he wasn’t about to argue against a good soak.

The baths sat empty when Asbel reached them. The other cadets were surely finishing up in the mess hall right about then, and those who weren’t were likely getting in what practice they could. Asbel found the designated bath easily enough, through another door the instructors regularly kept locked. The room was modest, much smaller than the main communal area the boys used with only one pool at its center and a bench crouched in the far corner.

Asbel knelt, emptying the container with unnecessary precision. He needed to get today’s ceremonies right. This part was easy, but the accolade itself involved a lengthy recitation of the knight’s oath. He knew the words by heart, but with the way it was still pounding, he wasn’t sure he could calm down enough to get the words out in the correct order. After all, this was it. This was really happening. Asbel had earned his place among the knights and he could finally make good on his promise.

Bolstered by that thought, Asbel peeled off his clothes, laid them out on the bench, and took a long determined step, plunging into the tub.

Or rather, as it turned out, splashing feet-first into liquid ice.

“Cold, cold, cold!” Asbel yelped, every vein seizing up as he flailed towards the edge of the bath. He could swear he saw ice crystals forming in the air as he sputtered and choked, his body shocked into alert awareness.

“T-that Captain! I should’ve known…!”

Asbel voiced several more strings of colorful words he was certain would’ve gotten him written up if Major Victoria had been around, but there was nothing for it.

He scrubbed off quickly, his skin tingling with needles. Once done, Asbel shimmied back into his cloths and returned to his room, a tiny square crowded around a squeaky bunk and an old wooden desk. Asbel yanked upon the bottom drawer of a lopsided dresser. There, folded expertly on top of a pile of well-worn cadet greens, was a brand new uniform, all white and trimmed in silver. He’d only barely been able to afford it with what little remained of his savings, but somehow he’d just managed it.

Asbel pulled on the jacket reverently, tugging up the crisp collar and sparing more than the usual five seconds to wrestle his hair into some semblance of neatness -- not that it helped much.

The man peering out of the mirror at him actually looked cool, and he could almost start to believe that he’d really made it. This, he knew, was an intense honor - to be selected as the sole cadet in his class who would graduate this year. Yes, he’d had enough hiccups along the way, but the fact that he’d even be considered, that Captain Malik would recommend him, that he even thought he was ready--

Of course he knew this wasn’t the end of his training. In fact, it was really only the beginning of everything, his first big leap to upholding the promise he’d made to become strong -- strong enough to protect those most important to him. Strong enough, maybe, to make up for what had happened back then.

“For Sophie,” he told his reflection.

 

* * *

 

Asbel found Malik leaning against a wall, contemplating a missing patch of roof that wind and rain had torn away. When he noticed Asbel, he nodded his approval. “Don’t you look nice. Well, how was it?”

Asbel’s reply was flat. “You know, you really should have warned me about the bath, Captain.”

“Oh? Was the temperature not to your liking?”

“It was _freezing_ in there,” Asbel muttered under his breath.

Malik only chuckled and motioned for them to walk.

Falling into place at his side, Asbel continued. “Everyone talks about the trials and tribulations of knighthood, but no one ever mentions catching pneumonia on the morning of their knighting ceremony.”

“Well, that’s part of the thrill, wouldn’t you agree? As a knight, you must always be prepared for anything. Including ice baths.”

“I don’t know if I’d call shivering to death a thrill, Captain.” Asbel said. “But I suppose you’re right.”

“No, maybe not,” Malik agreed. “But it is an invaluable lesson, and part of the tradition.”

The day couldn't have been any more perfect. It was the cloudless, hopeful kind of day that just begged for celebration. Asbel and Malik exited into the open passageway overlooking the courtyard. Green and white banners waved in the light breeze, emblazoned with both the crest of Windor and the insignia of Barona's esteemed Knight Training Academy. Several instructors conversed with one another, and Jarrett and two more of his classmates were already standing in a line out on the lawn. Out on the lawn where, in just a few moments…!

Captain Malik clapped a hand loose over one shoulder. Although there were few onlookers, Asbel's nerves were on edge, his whole body jittery. Despite his training, it’d be a miracle if he managed to stand still while they waited for the ceremony to get underway, for the moment that would - officially and without any remaining scrap of doubt - bestow Asbel with the title and responsibility given all those who entered the knighthood.

It was all he'd ever wanted.

“You practiced your oath last night?” Malik asked.

“Y-yeah…” Asbel murmured. He had. At least thirty times before he fell asleep!

“And how to behave in front of the representative from the royal knights?” continued Malik.

“Yes.” Granted, he was a little over his head when it came to politics, but he thought he could manage polite conversation well enough without sounding like a complete idiot. (Maybe.)

“And you also remembered to put on clean underwear, correct?”

“C-captain!!” Asbel hissed, face flashing hot.

Malik laughed, nudging his back. “Go on, then, Asbel. You’ve worked hard for this.”

Asbel stepped out into the courtyard while Malik joined Major Victoria and the other instructors. Asbel found his place in line with the other cadets, forcing himself not to fidget. He could still imagine Colonel Darrek’s voice thundering in his ears: “Stand sharp, Lhant!”

It seemed they were only waiting on a formal representative from the castle to arrive. In his dreams, Asbel had always envisioned that person would somehow be Richard, a benevolent smile gracing his face as he made a surprise appearance before the academy. Of course Asbel knew that outcome was unlikely. Richard probably had tons of important people to meet with, and tutoring sessions on how to become the next great ruler, and fancy banquets surrounded by even more influential people.

Asbel hadn’t seen his friend since that night in the catacombs. He’d tried, once or twice, to work up the nerve to pop in for a visit, but every time he’d changed his mind. How could he face Richard after all this time? What would he even say to him now? What would they talk about?

And yet, when the representative appeared, flanked by two soldiers, Asbel felt his throat tighten. Maybe it was selfish of him, but he wished Richard could see this somehow and know he wasn’t fighting for Windor’s future alone.

“You okay, Asbel?” Jarrett asked.

“Yeah, I’m fine…” Asbel whispered back,. “Who’s that man talking to Captain Malik?”

“Well, that’s--” he began.

“You don’t know?” piped up a voice on his other side. “No, of course you don’t, you grew up in the boonies.”

“Lhant’s not even a day’s ride from here, Stewart.” Charlotte interrupted from the end of the line, “And that’s by Turtlez transport.”

Stewart had always seemed to think that Asbel grew up in a barn, and he’d quickly learned to ignore his taunts. Charlotte, on the other hand, couldn’t resist trying to shoot the other cadet’s ego down a few pegs at every opportunity.

“He’s the Count von Carde.” Jarrett managed while the other two were distracted. “From one of the old families here in Barona.”

“So he’s pretty influential, huh?”

“Well, I wouldn’t want to catch him on a bad day…” Jarrett admitted.

“The Count is a prolific hunter, they say, and exceptional with a bow on horseback. He was also a lone graduate, the year he was inducted into the knights. He’s quite close with the Archduke.” Stewart added more helpfully.

“No one’s close with the Archduke,” insisted Charlotte.

Stewart cleared his throat and stood a little straighter. “That all depends entirely on who you ask.”

Count von Carde had taken his place slightly to the right of an empty patch of lawn, lifting a blade from the box that was proffered him. To the left, stood Major Victoria, eyeing the line of cadets through her glasses. Her gaze stopped on Asbel briefly with an expression he well knew meant “do not disappoint me”; he returned it with the smallest of nods. Asbel thought he caught a frown tugging her lower lip, but when he blinked, her attention had moved past him to where Captain Malik stepped forward. As one, the four cadets saluted.

“At ease,” he began, though no one in the courtyard budged.

“Today we’ve gathered to recognize one of our own cadets. An upstanding young man I’ve had the pleasure of getting to know over the past several years. He has repeatedly displayed the makings of a knight, steadfast dedication to duty, high quality of character, and bravery in the face of adversity. And, he is someone I believe is now prepared to step into our ranks.”

Asbel’s cheeks warmed at the praise, two shades short of embarrassment.

“Asbel Lhant,” the Count droned, joining him.

With one last glance at Malik, Asbel strode towards them, kneeling where the other man stood with sword raised high. He had graying hair, sharp features, and keen, clear eyes that reminded Asbel of a falcon. He also looked like someone you didn’t want to cross.

“Do you swear to uphold the virtues of knighthood? And to serve the Windor Kingdom, and her crown, for the rest of your days?”

“I do, sir.”

“Good. Recite the twelve, please,” was the Count’s dry request.

Asbel bowed his head and began to recite the words.

“I, Asbel Lhant, vow to dedicate my life for the greater good. I will place noble-mindedness above riches, and concern for others above any personal gain. I will not boast, but cherish humility instead. I will speak the truth, and strive to always stand by my word. I will protect those who are unable to protect themselves.”

Count von Carde motioned for him to continue.

“I will honor and respect all people from all walks of life. I will uphold justice. I will be faithful in love and loyal in friendship. I will take no part in scandals, or misconduct, or spreading of rumors.”

Taking a breath, Asbel let the remaining words gather momentum, no longer stiff and automatic. He was glad he’d spent so long practicing, or else he was sure he would’ve lost his concentration halfway through.

“I will be generous to the poor and to those who need my help. I will forgive when asked, so that my own mistakes might be forgiven in turn. And I will live my life with courtesy, courage, and honor from this day forward.”

The Count nodded and then addressed the others. “Will you stand beside this man, serve with him, and give him wise counsel?”

“Aye!” his classmates shouted in unison.

Asbel bent forward. “With pride, I will defend Windor, her king, and her people. Until my last breath, this oath I do solemnly swear.”

“Therefore I dub thee, Sir Knight.”

The flat of the blade was heavier than he expected, as if steel were somehow being poured into his body and weighing him down. Asbel's eyes flicked up briefly. Count von Carde wasn't even looking at him, and for a moment, Asbel wondered if this ceremony meant so little to him. But that hardly mattered now. His chest felt full and before he could completely rise to his feet, Jarrett had broken out of formation to pound him hard across the shoulders.

“Congratulations, Asbel!” Jarrett cheered.

“Go on now and quit making the rest of us look bad!”

“Just you wait.” Stewart insisted, “Next year it shall be a ceremony to honor my graduation!”

“Says who?” taunted Charlotte.

“Ask anyone you like!”

“You guys… seriously?” Asbel could only laugh as the other cadets joked and began goofing off -- a serious miscalculation considering Major Victoria was within easy striking distance and promptly took advantage of the fact.

 

* * *

 

 Asbel followed Malik back through the stone hallways of the academy, remembering all the times he’d gotten lost among them as a boy. It was hard to believe time had passed so quickly, that these walls no longer seemed like an unknowable maze.

"So, you're finally a knight now.”

"Yes, sir."

"How are you feeling about it?" Malik prompted.

"I-- I'm not really sure yet, Captain.” he admitted. “I thought I'd feel, I don't know... different somehow? But honestly I just feel the same."

"Hmm." Malik pulled at his chin. "A lot of things in life are like that. Becoming an adult, falling in love... I'd like to say the payoff is immediate, but sometimes it takes a while before the feeling sinks in. You don't always notice it."

"Yes, Captain."

“You know, Asbel. You don’t need to be so formal with me anymore. I may be a captain, and your former instructor, but I have no doubt you’ll be achieving great things of your own soon enough.”

Asbel opened his mouth, the reality finally sinking in. From here on, Captain Malik was no longer his personal instructor. Pretty soon, he’d be taking another trainee under his wing.

“No,” Asbel decided. “You’ll always be ‘the Captain’ to me, Captain Malik. I’m glad for everything you’ve taught me all these years.”

“It reflects poorly on me to say this - to play favorites with the students, you know - but I must admit it’s been a pleasure teaching you, Asbel.”

“Even when Major Victoria got on our case about the ‘Swordie Tortie’ incident?” Asbel asked wryly.

“Hmn.” Malik considered. “Thats a very... _pointed_ exception, but...yes. Even then.”

Asbel couldn’t help but laugh.

Before they had gotten too far, Asbel heard the sound of clattering metal behind them. Looking back over his shoulder, Asbel saw that a man in armor had rounded the corner and was coming their way.

“Captain Malik Caesar?” the man called.

“Excuse me for a minute, Asbel.”

“Of course,” Asbel murmured, wondering what could be going on.

Malik and the man headed for one of the alcoves, too far away to hear. Asbel stood by and allowed his thoughts to wander. Now that he was a knight officially, maybe he could find a way to go visit Richard and tell him the good news. Maybe it’d even be like old times.

It was a little hard to imagine what Richard might be like now, but surely he hadn’t forgotten the pact they’d made?

Asbel’s reverie was interrupted when Malik returned, his face drawn into a tight line. Something was wrong.

“What is it, Captain?”

Malik’s expression didn’t relax as it normally did. Instead he sighed heavily and kept moving. “Let’s head to my office. This isn’t something to be shared here.”

A thousand possibilities crowded Asbel’s mind and he had to jog to keep up with him. Candles guttered as they passed the entryway with its impossibly heavy doors, the sword sculpture forever embedded in the stone floor.

“What do you mean, Captain?” Asbel pressed, unable to stand it any longer. “Did something happen? Am I...am I not ready to become a knight after all?”

“No, it isn’t that. Though I wish it were something that simple.”

When they had reached Malik’s office at the end of the hall, marked by bright red banners, Malik latched the door behind them and made for his desk. Asbel had been in this office countless times, but he hardly saw it now.

Malik motioned towards a chair. “Have a seat, Asbel.”

“I’m fine here, Captain.” Asbel insisted, only then realizing his hands were tight fists at his sides. Loosing them, Asbel took a breath, his gaze direct as Malik eased himself into a seat, shuffling a stack of papers out of the way so that only the desk remained between them. “Please. Tell me what’s going on.”

“Very well, Asbel…” Malik said, all business. “We’ve just received word from Lhant.”

“From...Lhant?” It hadn’t been at all what Asbel expected. Though part of him was relieved this had nothing to do with the knights, his mind had begun to trace his steps backwards. In all these years, he’d never once returned to Lhant. If he was honest, he’d tried to run from it -- from his father’s demands, from a lordship he’d never wanted, from an empty bedroom.

Had his father finally decided that enough was enough? Was he being order to come home?

“Yes.” Malik continued, his voice losing some of its rigidity. “It seems that Lhant’s been involved in several border skirmishes with Fendel as of late. The current lord was wounded in one such battle.”

“My dad was--” Asbel cut himself off, bitterness replaced by panic as his brain struggled to double back on itself. “Is, is he all right?! He’s going to make it, isn’t he?”

“That I don’t know…” Malik admitted sympathetically. “However, there’s more.”

“More...?” The word stuck in his throat. Was it his mother? Or Cheria? He’d left her behind with nothing more than a sloppy letter and an apology to keep her company. Heck, he hadn’t said goodbye to his parents at all… Not even Mom.

Asbel felt sick. Cheria had always had a weak constitution, but Frederic had taken great care in seeing to it that she regularly visited the doctors. Surely, she hadn’t… She couldn’t have...

“It seems Strahta has also stepped in. They have been cooperating with Lhant and have pushed the Fendelian army back to their campsite near the Velanik line. Currently, Strahta is occupying Lhant.”

“What? I don’t understand, Captain! How can they…? And, my father--!!” Asbel sputtered.

Malik held up a hand. “The why and how of it is simple, Asbel. The real question is, what do _you_ plan to do about it?”

“What do I…” What could he do? In no more than a handful of minutes he’d gone from feeling strong to feeling utterly helpless.

“I’d understand if you were worried for your hometown, and if you wished to check up on your family. You may have just been knighted, but if you want to return home, I may be able to help you there.”

“But…!”

“Don’t make this decision lightly, Asbel. I know that you and your father parted on poor terms, but now that times have come to this, well… You understand what I’m saying, don’t you?”

“Y-yeah… I have to go, don’t I?”

“You don’t have to.” Malik answered reasonably.

“But, it’s the right thing.” Asbel realized. “I’d regret it if I didn’t… If something happened that I could have prevented.”

“We could do with a reliable report on the situation. The knights themselves won’t be able to get involved unless we have a clear picture of what’s happening in Lhant. Can you be our eyes and ears, Asbel?”

“I think so, Captain. It’s just...” Asbel couldn’t meet his eyes.

Malik reached across the desk and rested a hand on his shoulder. “You needn’t choose right this very minute, Asbel. Take an evening to yourself, and let me know what you’ve decided in the morning. If you really don’t want to go, we’ll send someone else.”

“Thank you, Captain Malik.”

Malik sighed, giving his shoulder a reassuring squeeze. “Hang in there, all right?”

Asbel could only nod, wondering what in the world he could possibly hang on to.


End file.
